I only know Roland, but I can’t disagree. I also can’t resist teasing him.
“Despite what you and I are doing here, extracurricular activities aren’t on my regular menu of services.” He’s clearly annoyed, which has me even more curious. “What exactly makes Mr. Cox an ass?”
The hostess arrives right at that point to lead us to our table. Marcus signals the bartender, and we follow the young woman to the back. It’s actually a navy velvet banquette. The arrangement leaves very little room between us.
“Cozy,” I note.
“Shall we?” He nods toward the waiter.
I agree, and he orders the ribeye and a bottle of pinot. Before long a sommelier appears to open and serve the pale red wine. He leaves, and I return to our abandoned topic.
“Back to Cox,” I say, taking a sip of wine. Notes of cherry and pomegranate hit my tongue, distracting me. “Mmm... This is going to be perfect with the steak.”
Marcus laughs. “Agreed. And that’s exactly as much breath as we’ll waste on Troy Cox. I’m not ruining dinner.”
“Hmm,” I say taking another small sip. “Tabled for now.”
We’re quiet a moment, and I push against the velvet cushions, letting my eyes roam our surroundings. “It’s really lovely here. I’ll have to add it to my list of go-tos.”
“My secretary worked in the restaurant business in college. She keeps track of all the new places.”
“Janice?” I smile, thinking of Sylvia. “My mother loves eating out. I’ll have to bring her here for Mother’s Day.”
He leans back, placing his fingers on the stem of his glass. “How’s that going?”
“What? Living with Sylvia? I love it.”
“Not looking for your own place?” The way he studies me causes a little flicker low in my stomach.
“Eventually.” Now I’m really laughing. “What interest do you have in my living arrangements?”
“I’m sure you can figure that one out.” His sly grin causes that little flicker to grow into more of a sizzle.
“Pretty sure of an invitation, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been pretty lucky in the past.”
A server appears with our plates, and it isn’t long before I’m cutting into perfectly cooked, medium-rare steak and roasted cauliflower with gruyere. Taking a break, I sip more wine and our eyes meet in the dim light across the table. His drop to my mouth then lower, lingering over my shoulders.
His gaze is like a caress, clearly hungry for more than steak. My head feels hot, and I curse not getting out more with C.J. I need to reconnect better. Then Marcus wouldn’t be so damned tempting all the time.
“We’re supposed to be discussing your missi
on statement during this business dinner,” I say, hoping to break the tension.
With a blink, he releases me. “How did the interviews go with Paul and Chris?”
“Just fine. That’s another thing we should take care of tonight.”
Setting his fork down, he leans back, lifting his wine glass. “What do you want to know? Shoot.”
I follow suit, leaning back on the velveteen bench. “You weren’t born in Chicago. Is Wilmington home?”
“Nice memory,” he grins, glancing down. “Yes. I grew up in Wilmington.”
“That explains the good Southern manners.” He chuckles, and I continue, recalling my curiosity at our earlier conversation. “You don’t credit your mother for them. Were you raised by another relative?”
“A rather personal question, Miss Knight.”